Empathic Evolution
by Shadowbox N. Paperchase
Summary: There was one additional student at Charles Xavier's school in the beginning, an extraordinarily gifted empath, Morgan McGowan. Twelve years has passed and she is asked to return as Xavier's personal assistant. Takes place after X-men 2 OC
1. The Need to Belong

**Chapter 1: The Need to Belong**

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

His home had become a place of darkness and depression. She tried to hide it from him, keep it from him; he knew that she was trying to protect him. She was hardly ever home, always on the go, she'd come home when her body needed rest, when her sense of propriety would override her need to lose herself. Dr. Neal McGowan was slowly losing his daughter. If he allowed this to continue, he knew that eventually the darkness would swallow her up whole. He carefully weighed his options day by day. He could try to convince her to slow down, perhaps reestablish a relationship with her old therapist, or even go back to London where he knew there were others who could draw off the darkness. Others like her.

Neal McGowan was excellent psychiatrist, and could easily treat anyone in her current condition. However, Morgan McGowan was not like any on his patients. Emotions were not something that was dealt with lightly in her world. They were her world. His daughter was an empath. A powerful one, a level five empath, the highest classification of it's kind. He knew from past conversations with his friend, Charles Xavier, if his daughter possessed the 'X-gene', if her gifts were the product of mutation, her classification would be Alpha.

The ring of the telephone shook Neal out of his thoughts. Once he heard the calm British voice on the other side, he knew that there was once again hope for Morgan.

Charles Xavier saved Morgan's life a long time ago. As his student, he taught her how to control her gift, and to shield herself from the onslaught of emotions that constantly threatened to consume. Once she possessed the necessary tools, Morgan honed her empathic gift into a sharpened implement that could sooth, hurt, command, and even incapacitate. Neal knew that Morgan did not need Charles for any of these previous reasons. What she needed now from Charles was a purpose. A purpose to continue on with her life.

Neal walked slowly towards her bedroom; he could hear the low drone of music through her door. Constantly living with it, over the last few months, he had come to despise the sound. It was 'their song'. He knew from experience that Morgan would be lying on her bed, staring up sightlessly at the ceiling, thinking of Jonathon, their song would be set on repeat for hours. Morgan opened the door before he could raise his hand to knock. As always, she sensed his approach. The telltale tear tracks marred her face; her eyes were swollen and red. She sighed deeply as she stepped to one side of the door's opening.

"Come on in," her voice was flat and emotionless.

"Morgan, we need to talk," he said using what he hoped sounded more authoritative than he truly felt. She raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head. She probably thought that he was going to, once again, offer suggestions to 'help her get through this'.

Her lips thinned in irritation as she held up her hand, "Dad, I really don't think…"

"Morgan," he interrupted, "let me talk. Look, I just got off the phone with Charles Xavier."

Morgan's eyes widened at the mention of his name, "Charles, how is he?" She asked quietly. Neal smiled as he felt a faint flicker of happiness seep out of his daughter. He hadn't felt anything remotely positive or happy come out of her in a very long time.

"Well, as you can imagine, he is having a tough time of things. With the government constantly trying to pass the mutant registration act, the recent blackout that everyone knows to be mutant related, Jean's death, and throughout all of this, he is still trying to run his school. It's been pretty tough. So, the reason that he called was that he wanted to speak to you about a job. He needs a personal assistant. It has to be someone that he can trust, someone who understands his vision; it has to be someone just like you, _Morgan_."

"I don't know," she said turning to stare out the window, her arms were crossed and she was lightly tapping her fingers against the flesh of her upper arms. She knew that she was being manipulated by two of the three men in her life that could still accomplish it. She couldn't help but scowl.

"Honey, Charles and his staff are buried under the workload. The administrative part of the school has come to a screeching halt. There is just nobody who has any time for it. So what Charles is proposing is that you come, live on the school grounds, and assist him."

Morgan sighed as she glanced over and saw the hopefulness that colored his expression. He crossed the distance between them, and placed his hands on top of her shoulders.

"I want you to go. You need to start living again. It's like… it's like watching your mother die all over again," his voice cracked with emotion. "I really can't bear it. So please…please… go. You need to belong to something bigger than you."

"So… am I to assume that this," she gestured to herself and pointed out towards the window, "has already been arranged?" She asked, as the right corner of mouth turned up in a smirk. Son of a bitch… she had been played.

"Yeah," he smiled, "pretty much. You leave on Sunday. I guess that means that you had better start packing."


	2. Surprises and Farewells

**Chapter 2: Surprises and Farewells**

Scott Summers knew that Charles Xavier rarely did anything without thinking through all of the implications of his actions. Meaning, there was a reason as to why he had been reduced to a glorified errand boy. Go fetch, Scott

As he slowly walked up to the front door of the McGowan residence, he had the overwhelming urge to turn on his heels and head back home. He could easily plead his case that bringing someone else in, was placing another person in a dangerous situation. Obviously, there was validity to that statement, after Stryker's attack He could say that the extra classes that he took over after Jean's death were manageable, and he easily could block time out to assist the professor in the administrative portion of the school.

"I can type. I can file," he mumbled to himself, "I'm leader of the goddamn X-Men, for chrissakes, I could handle it."

Even though, he might have his own misgivings about the Morgan situation, Scott Summers trusted the professor's judgment inexplicably. He quickly raised his hand and rapped on the door with his knuckles before his mind could come up with any more reasons to not complete this assigned task.

The last time he saw Morgan, she was an angry teenager with haunted eyes, a major chip on her shoulders, chock full of angst and was carrying around some heavy emotional problems. An empath. Those nine months that Morgan attended the school were amongst the longest of his life. Day in and day out, Jean Grey knew what he was thinking and Morgan McGowan knew what he was feeling. There are a few things, especially for a young man, that really needs to be kept private,

Honestly, Scott could accept the fact that she was an empath, and it wasn't due to mutation. There were many unexplained phenomena in this world; empathy that wasn't caused by human mutation was perfectly plausible to Scott. It was her secondary gift of clairvoyance, which Scott was never shown an inkling of scientific proof that anything outside of this realm even existed, was what set his teeth on edge regarding Morgan. Ghosts? Dead people. Really? He never saw any wispy apparitions, he never felt any cold spots, or heard any ghostly whisperings. Nothing. Nada She was forever screaming about the ghosts following her around, talking to her. He thought it was more a ploy to garner attention.

Scott had no idea what to expect when the McGowan's door opened. His breath caught in his throat and once again he was secretly pleased that his visor covered his eyes. Morgan smiled warmly at him, reached out and pulled him into tight hug.

"Scott, I am so happy to see you," she whispered into his shoulder. Morgan pulled away and boldly appraised Scott's physique.

"Wow, I guess being a super hero has certain perks, eh? Well…come on in," she smiled and chuckled softly as he blushed, "some things just don't change."

Scott couldn't help but laugh, "you're right, some things never do, still got that mouth, I see. You've really have changed so much. I am in a bit of a shock. You look wonderful. Truly."

"You're sweet," she cocked her head at him and with a slight grin on her face, she continued, "but I do _know_ what you were expecting."

"What? What was I expecting?'

Morgan brought her hands to her face, placed them on each of her cheeks, rolled her eyes back until Scott could only see the whites and whispered:

"I see dead people."

She giggled and chucked him under the chin. He laughed out loud.

"Scott, it is so good to see you again," Neal said, extending his hand in greeting. He was genuinely pleased to see Scott, after so many years. The boy had grown into a fine man.

"Doctor McGowan," turning towards Morgan's father, "how are you, sir?"

"I am well," he answered as he shook Scott's hand, "how are you doing…since…?"

Scott took a deep breath and pushed the pain down inside of himself. Morgan hated when people did that, she always wanted to try and retrieve it, like it was tangible. But then again, she, as of late had experienced quite a bit of pain herself. So perhaps she should just slip back, and allow others to deal in their own way. Since Scott was projecting a great deal at the moment, she took a moment to strengthen her shield. Her father and Scott continued on with their conversation. Doctor McGowan could never resist the urge to help, whether the person wanted it or not. Morgan had stopped listening because something had caught her attention. There was some sort of disturbance, weak, elemental in nature in the corner of the room. She thought about banishing it, but that might take some time and she was sure Scott was not quite ready for that little spectacle.

"So if you are ready Morgan, I will wait for you in the car. It was good seeing you again. Thanks for the advice." He walked to the door, partly needing some time to compose himself and also wanting to be polite so that they could say goodbye in private.

"You got a little something over in the corner, Dad. Do you want me take care of it?"

"Is it serious?"

"Nah, it'll go away by itself, in a couple days, if you ignore it, especially if I am not here. I am what attract these pests."

"Then don't worry…"


	3. The Question

**Chapter 3: The Question**

The conversation between Scott and Morgan cycled down to silence after most of the major topics had been touched on. A few shared memories of 'back in the day' were mutually recollected, and the weather had been remarked about. Morgan had an inkling of what Scott was thinking about. After so many years of fielding questions, and giving her canned 'is there really such things as ghosts?' answer, she knew the facial expression most people wore before they summoned the courage to ask 'the question'.

"Can I ask you something?" He finally asked, his face remained facing forward, watching the road, "I mean I don't know if I really believe about ghosts and such but..."

"Ask your question." Morgan replied, trying not to smirk.

"If someone dies unexpectedly or perhaps there is an accident, why wouldn't a spirit stick around? I don't know, to conceivably to tie up loose ends. You know, give people a chance to say good bye?"

"Hmmm…now that is not the typical question that I receive. Scott, are we talking about Jean?" he nodded, "I may not have an answer but I will try. It has been my experience that most people when they die, do not want to stay. They want to go on, to cross over if you will. Earthly concerns just no longer exist. They make the choice to leave. The hardest lesson I had to learn was that even though someone loves you so much, and your bond with them is so strong, that doesn't necessarily mean you are enough to keep them here. Existing in a form no longer corporeal amongst millions of corporeal beings is an awful way to be. All of the really strong emotions like hate, anger, envy, desire are intensified because you have what they no longer have… Life. Are you following me?"

"I think so. You mentioned the hardest lesson you had to learn, were you referring to your mother's death?" Scott asked, swallowing hard.

"I was more referring to my husband, Jonathon. He was killed in a car accident about two years ago."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Scott replied, turning his head and looked at Morgan. There was apparently a lot that the professor neglected to mention about what had happened to Morgan after she left the school so many years ago.

"After Jonathon died, I really thought since he knew how strong of a medium I was, he would choose to stay because I would be able communicate with him. We could still have each other, but I quickly realized that I wasn't enough. This started to affect my work. I no longer could focus. I looked for him in every shadowy apparition I saw. So my mentor, David took me off active investigator status and I became his personal assistant. That was good for me. I was able to get my life under control again," Morgan said in a low and even tone. Scott could tell that she was still struggling with the pain; he could hear the effort to keep her emotions under check in her voice.

"What made you leave that organization?" Scott asked, hoping to change the subject.

"David disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and then, well, let's just say he became something else," Morgan's voice trailed off.

"What did he become?"

Morgan sighed and looked out the window, "Unfortunately, that is something I cannot tell you."

"Oh sorry, didn't mean to pry"

"No it's not that, just organizational secrecy. So anyways, after he was gone, there was nothing for me there. So I came back home to the states. If you ask my dad, I really just came home so that I could lie in my bedroom, listen to sad music, cry, and write all my depressing thoughts in my journal."

"What would _you_ say?"

"Of definitely that was exactly what I did, but not in that particular order, I think he was more alarmed that I started frequenting the New York night clubs," she grinned at him. Scott chuckled softly. They sat in silence for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts.

"Remember when we snuck out and went to that dive bar in Westchester? I still don't know how we were able to get in, we all looked so goddamn young," Scott said, glancing over at Morgan who was smiling, "What?"

"You never did quite understand how my gift worked, did you Scott?"

"Meaning?"

"One of the first aspects of being an empath you learn is the power of influence."

"It was you," Scott snorted, "and here I thought all of these years that Warren slipped the bouncer some money. Morgan threw her head back and laughed. She then turned to him, waved a hand in front of her face.

"It was a combo, Scott. Warren and myself. Here take a fifty, dude. We are all over twenty one and these aren't the droids that you are looking for."

He couldn't help what where his mind went next. After having Stryker catch them, so unaware and with their pants down around their ankles, Scott started to look at all aspects of his life now with strategy. Even though, the woman sitting next to him was not a mutant, and probably wanted nothing to do with their fight, he couldn't help but wonder where and how he could use her on his team.

"So, is there anyone left at the school that I might know?"

"Only…Ororo, Hank, myself and the professor. Hank, as you know, became a medical doctor. A few years ago, his physical mutation become much more pronounced…very pronounced. The school is quite busy, many students, staff, and there are a few that seem just want to hang around to piss me off. I'll let Charles make those introductions."


End file.
